So much for the effort and ingenuity of Montmartre. All the catering to vice and waste was on an utterly childish scale, and he suddenly realized the meaning of the word "dissipate" – to dissipate into thin air; to make nothing out of something. In the little hours of the night every move from place to place was an enormous human jump, an increase of paying for the privilege of slower and slower motion. (1.56)
Going out of the restaurant, a man and a woman unexpectedly hailed him.
"Well, the old Wales!"
Sudden ghosts out of the past. (2.38-41)
They were waiting. Marion sat behind the coffee service in a dignified black dinner dress that just faintly suggested mourning. (3.1)